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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292667">Belongings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exxact/pseuds/Exxact'>Exxact</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Becoming: Alpha!Leia/Omega!Jyn Oneshots [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha!Leia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Courting Rituals, F/F, Femslash, Hoth (Star Wars), Multi, Omega!Jyn, star wars femslash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:22:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exxact/pseuds/Exxact</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You took one of my dresses to cut up and line your nest with.” </p><p>“And three canisters of the buttermint tea you drink.”</p><p>Leia sighs.  “And three canisters of buttermint tea.  I’m going to have to reprimand you for this, and we both know that the Rebellion needs your skills more than I do the things you stole.”</p><p>“Having you in here is punishment enough,” Jyn snarls, hunching over the prize in her lap.</p><p> </p><p>An experiment in writing this pairing with this dynamic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Relationship, Bail Organa/Breha Organa, Jyn Erso/Leia Organa, mentioned Kalluzeb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Becoming: Alpha!Leia/Omega!Jyn Oneshots [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Belongings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/gifts">TelepathJeneral</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>"Princess Leia.  You are missing a white gown.  I know this because Jyn Erso was cutting it up in her bunk last night.”</p><p> </p><p>The statement, delivered without an ounce of mockery, comes as enough of a surprise to Leia this early in the morning that she nearly tosses the empty tea canister at the security droid who said it. </p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” she replies, a quarter of the way down the hall before K-2SO even begins to follow her.  “Take me to her.  Immediately.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?  You clearly know where you are going.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia rolls her eyes, storming off towards Rogue One’s dormitory wing.  He’s right, of course—Leia knows every jut and curve of Echo Base, just as she has that of every palace and ship under her command from birth.  It is her territory, her sacred space as one of the commanding Alphas of the Rebellion.  The lift jostling her upwards, the slippery durasteel beneath her feet once she exits it—they are hers to navigate, part of her domain to protect.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A lesson that Jyn Erso is about to learn.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The thought of interrupting this floor’s Omega lounge gives Leia pause.  She is not barred entry, of course, just as no Omega is forbidden from where Alphas congregate in clouds of smoke and bitter caf elsewhere.  Still, she pauses for a moment to allow her scent to register before entering, lingering in the doorway.  The lounge is similar enough to any other, well-heated by bodies and warming pads, soft and timeless.  Pelts and quilts pad every surface, and she immediately removes her boots.  After doing so, she is greeted with nods rather than offense and makes her way towards where Draven is permitting Zeb Orrelios to massage his back.  The distress overriding his usual scent would be humorous were it not so genuine.</p><p> </p><p>“Have any of you seen Sergeant Erso?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not this morning, I’m afraid.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Leia.”</p><p><br/>
Bodhi’s head jerks free from Luke’s hands as soon as he finishes answering.  “She always stays in her nest until her shift,” he blurts out, meeting Leia’s eyes for the first time in the six months she’s known him.  “She hates it in here, so she takes whatever materials she can from around base to pad her bunk.”  His eyes widen.  “Ah, probably shouldn’t have told you that.”  </p><p> </p><p>Leia smiles out a tight platitude, leaving the room in a cold huff of breath, her fists clenched around the straps of her boots.  The though of court-martialing one of the Rebellion’s best codebreakers for theft is much more distressing than a lost dress she can’t even recall from memory.  <em>And I can’t lie—not since Draven overheard…</em></p><p> </p><p>“Wait up!”</p><p> </p><p>Bodhi nearly slides into Leia, his hair loose against his jaw.  It’s nearly returned to the length it was on Yavin, though his left shoulder has yet to grow back.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s—she’s not good.  At being one.  An Omega.  She hates it—she’s told me before.”</p><p> </p><p>A piece of Leia grows heavy.  She’s known hundreds of Omegas secure in their designation despite the Empire’s propaganda, but the proudest among them was Bail Organa.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Papa, you’d tell me how to help her.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leia’s jaw tenses, though she remains otherwise still, waiting for Bodhi to continue.  He opens his mouth, but K2, hunching out of the lift, speaks first.</p><p> </p><p>“She doesn’t go in there because she thinks being an Omega is a weakness.  She tries to mask her scent by not washing her outer clothing.  Cassian says that it makes her smell terrible.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia sighs, crossing her arms.  “Thank you both.  I’ll handle this myself.”</p><p><br/>
+++</p><p><br/>
Entering Jyn and Bodhi’s quarters is simple enough.  Leia is surprised when she is keyed in automatically, calling out Jyn’s name twice with her eyes closed to be doubly certain she isn’t interrupting anything.</p><p> </p><p>Remaining in them, however, proves more difficult.  </p><p> </p><p>“I know why you’re here,” a voice grumbles from the bed nearest to the door.  It’s been made into the barest suggestion of a nest, covered on its top and sides like a tent rather than padded out.  When Jyn flips one of the tarps up, she can see that it’s a paltry thing inside, mainly comprised of two animal pelts, a red knitted blanket, and a swath of familiar white fabric.  </p><p><br/>
It takes several tense seconds for Jyn’s scent to diffuse throughout the room, and Leia immediately takes a deep, shuddering breath of it.  Beneath the musk and smoke of her usual tactical gear, Jyn smells of ice water and herbs, an edge of spearmint nearly overpowering the vanilla-like warmth at the base of every Omega’s scent profile.  Though strong and green, it demands protection, care, gentling—all of the instincts Leia has diverted firmly towards the Rebellion until this moment.</p><p> </p><p>Leia blinks several times before she is able to physically register Jyn herself.  She’s clad in only a standard-issue black camisole and boxers, bare feet tucked beneath her knees.  Behind her ragged clothing and hair, she’s more delicate than Leia would have thought possible, her heart-shaped face and wide eyes features any Omega would envy.  However, it is her lips that captivate Leia.  She watches Jyn’s teeth peek out as she bites them, pearly and vulnerable.  </p><p> </p><p>Jyn leans forward, daring Leia with her gaze to speak first.  When she shifts to grab a mug of tea, Leia sees a small cushion tucked against her belly, lumpy and white. Jyn growls when Leia’s eyes linger upon it.</p><p> </p><p>“You took one of my dresses to cut up and line your nest with.” </p><p> </p><p>“And three canisters of the buttermint tea you drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia sighs.  “And three canisters of buttermint tea.  I’m going to have to reprimand you for this, and we both know that the Rebellion needs your skills more than I do the things you stole.”</p><p> </p><p>“Having you in here is punishment enough,” Jyn snarls, hunching over the prize in her lap.</p><p> </p><p>It’s only the scent of Jyn’s distress, rolling off of her in waves, that stops Leia from spitting back a reply.  She’s forced to cover her nose with her glove, her eyes watering at the sheer <em>hurt</em> in it.  To think that she is the source of it, that she has caused a woman who only wanted a piece of her to hold close this pain—it’s more than Leia can bear.</p><p> </p><p>Still, stealing is wrong.  <em>Unless it’s the Death Star plans, of course.</em></p><p> </p><p>“And it’s not a nest.  I don’t make nests.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia summons all of her mother’s poise before she attempts to reply, stumbling around a half-apology.  “I shouldn’t have barged in with accusations.  I hope this doesn’t mar your opinion of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t apologize,” Jyn mutters, curling against the wall of the bunk. “It’s your dress, after all.  And your tea.  Take the other mug of it over there if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep all of it,” Leia replies, her voice warm with satisfaction at the thought.  “I have a shift today that ends before dinner.  I’d like to return here then.  With supplies,” she manages, her words as spontaneous as her idea. </p><p> </p><p>“Whatever suits you,” Jyn says flatly, though her grip on the cushion is unrelenting.  “But I’m not going to remake your dress.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want you to.”</p><p> </p><p>Jyn’s eyes are skeptical.  “I’ll tell Bodhi he can spend an extra hour in that stupid room, then.  I don’t preen either, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia doesn’t reward Jyn with her frustration.  “That much is obvious,” she quips instead, pain smarting though her when Jyn smiles back.</p><p><br/>
+++</p><p><br/>
“You are going to begin courting her, I presume?”</p><p> </p><p>Leia could laugh in Draven’s face at his words, at everything that has led her to this moment—once she has finished weeping for the losses that have done the same.</p><p> </p><p>“I am going to complete my shift,” she tells him, forcing down the last of her caf.  “And then I will deal with personal matters.”</p><p> </p><p>Draven shrugs.  “Don’t court-martial her over a dress and some cheap tea.  Hell knows that Kallus and Orrelios did stupider things in their time.  Still have the blaster bolt in my office desk to prove it.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia shudders, grateful as always that they fall under Syndulla’s command.  She is surprised when Draven speaks again, wondering whether this is the longest he’s ever spoken to her outside of a meeting.</p><p> </p><p>“She’ll be a fine mate, even if she struggles with her designation.  Be good to her—she’s skittish on the best of days and she couldn’t care less about forfeiting a title if it meant saving herself some hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia nods.  <em>The man who ordered her father’s execution is now giving me courting instructions for her</em>.  “That would be excellent advice, but I don’t believe she even wants to be in a room with me.  Just with my—my belongings, apparently.”</p><p> </p><p>Draven’s chuckle startles Leia halfway to Coruscant.  “Haven’t heard Rook’s side of it every morning for the past six months, now have you?”</p><p><br/>
+++</p><p><br/>
“You’re back,” Jyn mutters, setting the heating droid she’d been fiddling with onto the floor.  Leia knows that she’ll be starting her own shift in two hours and that disrupting her beforehand is a terrible idea. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Timing never was my strong point.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Regardless, Leia smiles, as widely and graciously as her mother would have.  “And I come bearing gifts.”</p><p> </p><p>Jyn sniffs the air before peeking her head out of her nest, every muscle in her visible arm and neck tensed.</p><p> </p><p>“Sewing supplies.  I don’t need those.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia bites back a sigh, focusing instead on the pleasant freshness of Jyn’s scent.  It hasn’t dissipated into sourness, though anxiety still mars her features. </p><p> </p><p>“I know.  I just thought you might like them.  And that you might, perhaps, let me sit with you.  I could embroider a design onto the cushion you’re holding.  My mother taught me well.”</p><p> </p><p>Jyn’s mouth grows slack at the implication, her eyebrows furrowing.  “I’m not good enough for that.  For you.  Why would you even give me hope?”</p><p> </p><p>The fear palpable around Jyn would make any Alpha with a shred of emotion shed a tear.  Thus, Leia does not blame herself for doing so.  “Please—you don’t need to answer now,” she manages, composing herself.  “It’s just something you might consider.”  <em>Someone you might consider.</em></p><p> </p><p>Jyn nods, pulling the remaining fabric of the dress aside.  In the time since Leia has seen her last, she’s managed to stitch it into a pouch that extends from her underarms to her ankles.  She fishes out the cushion, thrusting it towards Leia.</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” she murmurs, her voice brimming with a hint of a coo.  Leia responds with her own purr, settling onto Bodhi’s desk chair.  Jyn’s needlework is sloppy, yet Leia cannot imagine replacing her stitches with the ones she’s known since childhood.  Instead, she threads a needle with pale blue thread, outlining the first pattern her mother taught her at five onto the white canvas. </p><p> </p><p>“Those are Alderaan starflowers,” Jyn says after several minutes, hesitance in her voice. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Leia replies, enjoying the weight of Jyn’s concentration on her.  “A symbol of my family.  I believe that my father especially would have liked to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jyn makes an uncertain sniffling noise, folding back into her nest while Leia continues to sew in silence.  </p><p><br/>
+++</p><p><br/>
The next morning, Leia decides that the frayed cord of a necklace stitched into a green cotton square atop her datapad is payment enough for Jyn’s thievery.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-4/2/2020: I wrote a prequel to this fic from Jyn's POV called "Surfacing"!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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